Clementine

In most of my favorite books, the adventure starts with the main character making a bad decision. After that bad decision, the main character meets someone, usually the other important main character, and then something terrible happens. But in the end, good triumphs evil, perhaps a love confession or two, and the main characters live happily ever after.

That’s what I tell myself every time I sneak into the Black Forest.

I wouldn’t say I’m a rebel—not exactly. I just despise dumb rules. Such as my parents’ and nearly everyone in Moonflower Valley’s rule, “DON’T go into the Black Forest.”

I guess I kinda get why they don’t want us to go in there, but nobody even lives in the Black Forest. Well, except for criminals, rogues, sorcerers and demons. But…

I haven’t met anybody in the forest so far, so I’m safe.

(Probably.)

All this to say, I see nothing wrong or dangerous with what I’m doing. But my dad definitely would.

My goodness! You don’t even know who I am. How rude of me! My name is Clementine Hazelwood, a resident of the great kingdom Moonflower Valley and a small, lavender-furred cat humanimal.

A humanimal is a cross-species between humans and animals. When I’m Standing Up, I look like a regular human, and when I’m on All-Fours, I’m just a regular cat but I can still speak.

I also have a younger sister, Citrine. She’s a blue cat with tiger-like markings when she’s on All-Fours, and her copper, almond-shaped eyes sit with an upward slant in her face. That’s how Citrine got her name.

I pull on the brakes of my bicycle as the Sunrise Tower comes into view and plant my feet on the ground to steady myself. I look around as casually as I can to see if I’m alone.

It’s not entirely necessary—few people hang out by this part of the forest and the watchtowers are usually empty—however, you can never be too careful with these kinds of things.

I hide my bike in a bush and hurry into the Black Forest. It’s gorgeous. It’s never boring to take a walk through the humongous trees, the flowering bushes… even the butterflies are prettier than the ones in the kingdom.

Everything seems more… peaceful. Especially in the summer.

As I look around, I notice a small fruit-bearing shrub with round, dark blue fruits that resemble blueberries. I pluck one and hold it up to the light. I tilt my head and turn it in my fingers, studying it from every angle. It’s just an ordinary berry. Poisonous, probably. But I can’t resist thinking about what I’d thought that morning.

In most of my favorite books, the adventure starts with the main character making a bad decision.

To humor myself, I lift the berry to my lips as if about to pop it into my mouth.

“Don’t eat that!”

I drop the berry and turn around, embarrassed and alarmed that someone had seen me joke around like that. If that’s a soldier, I am so dead.

But a part of me knows that the voice is too young to be a soldier. I stare at the fox in front of me in awe. She stands Up, cautious, and narrows her eyes at me. A dark red cloak drapes over her shoulders, but her hood is down. Bright green eyes flecked with gold seem to pierce into my soul, and long, curly cinnamon-red hair frames her face. Her sage green tunic lays over a long-sleeved charcoal gray shirt that’s cinched in at her waist with a thick belt. And, I notice as she steps out of the shadows, her leather armbands are the same chestnut brown as her knee-high boots.

“You’re a… a fox,” I point out in disbelief. Foxes don’t live in Moonflower Valley—they live in packs around us.

She raises her eyebrows and crosses her arms. “And you figured that out all by yourself?”

I bristle. “You shouldn’t be this close to the kingdom,” I say, more because she’s rude and I want to say something equally rude back than anything else.

“Well, you shouldn’t be in the Black Forest.”

“Touché.” An awkward moment of silence passes between us, and I try to break the ice. “I, uh, I never caught your name,” I venture.

“Good,” the girl turns to leave. “I didn’t throw it.”

A smile creeps onto my lips. “You’re funny. Wait! Don’t go.”

She pauses but doesn’t face me.

“My name is Clementine,” I offer, scratching a large, red, irritated mosquito bite that had bloomed in the palm of my left hand. “Clementine Hazelwood.”

The girl heaves a long, dramatic sigh, as though making conversation with me is beneath her. “Flynne Bloomfield, the one and only. And by the way, that was a new moon berry you almost ate. They’re super poisonous. A single berry causes hives, hallucination, excessive salivation, itchy eyes and indigestion after a few seconds. In that order. Two berries will do that immediately. Three? Death.”

“I wasn’t going to eat it,” I say defensively. “I’m not stupid.” My mosquito bite is doing a good deal worse. Maybe I shouldn’t be scratching it?

“At least you’re convinced.” Flynne is beside me faster than I can blink. She grabs my wrist and shows me my hand—my hand! I stare in horror at the ‘mosquito bites’ that had sprouted on my skin. The sensation shifts from an irritated itch to a burning pain, and the ones in the palm of my hand change color from red to blue to indigo to purple to dark purple to—

“Here, I’ve got the antidote.” Flynne digs in her cloak pocket and presses a small vial filled with milky white liquid into my hands. “You need to drink it. Oh, and just—”

I fumble with unusual clumsiness to open the vial, then empty its contents into my mouth.

“—a little bit,” she finishes, taking back the empty vial. She lifts it up to the light to inspect it. “Yeah, no, that’s empty.”

“Sorry,” I apologize meekly, hiding my hand behind my back. The pain is fading, but looking at the hives makes my stomach hurt.

“Well at least you’re not dead,” Flynne says, but it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself that that’s a good thing. “And uh, you owe me thirty dollars,” she says, lowering herself onto a moss-covered log.

“That little thing was thirty quid?”

“Sterlings, actually. And it’s the healer’s fee,” Flynne shrugs. “You know, supply and demand, and all that nonsense.” She waves a hand in front of her face as if to push away the question.

“Oh. Got it.” Well, there goes my allowance. My head begins to throb, and I blink hard in an attempt to cancel out the pain.

“So, what’s a little girl like you doing in the Black Forest? Hm?” Flynne asks. “Joining a smuggling ring? Running away?” She gasps and covers her mouth with a great flourish of her left hand. “Talking to strangers?” She smirks, propping her elbows on her knees.

“Ha ha, very funny,” I roll my eyes even as my stomach churns threateningly. “I was just exploring. I like coming in here to read or hang out. It’s very mysterious. Also—don’t you ‘little girl me’, we’re like the same age!”

“Month and year,” Flynne demands.

“May 5th, 1910.”

“Ha! January 19, 1910,” Flynne says smugly.

I gave her a ‘What?’ look. “That’s barely even five months.”

“I was talking before you could roll over, I bet,” she muses, before adopting a more serious expression. “Look, don’t tell anyone about me, or that you saw a fox near here, okay? Absolutely no one. Not your mom or dad, or any of your friends, or whatever. I don’t want your army on my tail.” Flynne stands, stretches, and then drops to All-Fours.

I shoot up, and then regret it when the world goes a little topsy-turvy. “Wait! You’re leaving? Already?” I reach for a nearby tree to steady myself as stars dance around my vision.

She gives me a look of concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” I promise. “It’s nothing a glass of water won’t fix.”

“Right,” she drags out the word. “Uh, get home safe, I guess. Oh, and don’t worry—I’ll see you again tomorrow, same time. You owe me.”

She flashes a small smile before dropping to All-Fours and scampering off into the bushes. My heart seems to pound in my head and I felt absolutely sick—whether that’s because of those murderberries—er, new moon berries—or maybe the overdose of the antidote, I’m not sure. But even as I keel over to throw up in the bushes, a warm feeling fills my chest.

I just made a new friend.